


Begin Again

by Shippertrash_05



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippertrash_05/pseuds/Shippertrash_05
Summary: A Feyre and Rhysand fic that I co-wrote previously with an old friend.It is not finished and I'm not sure if it ever will be because I do not write with this person anymore, but I hope to continue this on my own in the future.- Editting in progress -





	Begin Again

Feyre sighed softly, biting her lip as she rifled through her messenger bag. It was only the first day and she was worried she would be late. “Stupid fucking. Where is that damn map.” She frowned, yanking her notebook from her bag as she kept walking. She glanced up at the art building before her, sighing deeply once more. She moved quickly across the square, weaving through the slight crowd that had already accumulated on campus. Pushing open the door, she breathed in and nibbled on her lip, glancing down at the schedule in her hands. “394. Third floor then.” She murmured to herself, heading toward the stairs and taking them two at a time. She felt slightly out of breath when she reached the top steps. “Need to work out more.” She shook her head, chuckling slightly as she made her way down the long hall. She slipped into the classroom with a few spare minutes, settling down in a seat at the back of the class. She set down her notebook in front of her, pulling her pens and pencils from her bag as she flipped open the half filled notebook.

Rhys had had a late night the night prior, and had woken up to the sun assaulting his eyes from the windows he forgot to close the night before. He'd stayed up late drinking and reading. Not that that was an irregular occurrence for him, but he'd signed up for that class. And it was ten minutes from starting when he finally pulled himself out of bed. Good thing the art building was just a few buildings down from where his city loft was located. A loft that was stripped nearly bare, save for a desk, numerous bookshelves that crowded one corner of the studio, his bed that was rarely ever made, and the kitchen area towards the back of the open space. All hardwood and brick walls; just the aesthetic he'd been looking for when he'd moved to New York. He dressed himself unhurriedly and put on a pair of sunglasses to block out that damned sunshine. After he'd made it down two flights of stairs, grabbed a coffee from a neighboring vendor, he was only seven minutes late for the class. After he'd entered the art building and made his way up another three flights of stairs and found room 394, he was eleven minutes late. He walked in, pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, and grinned at the teacher. "Sorry I'm late. I brought coffee." He said by way of what most people would consider an apology as he held out the extra coffee he'd picked up towards the woman standing at the front of the class. "I'm Rhysand, by the way. Delighted to meet you, love." He purred.

Feyre glanced up, brushing her fingers through her golden brown hair before she pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose. She had lost her contacts again and had to resort to wearing her glasses once more. She watched as the tall male sauntered into the classroom. _Great._ She thought to herself and shook her head slightly. Class had barely begun and they already had the pretentious asshole that everyone would hate. She rolled her eyes for a moment, watching as the guy shamelessly flirted with their teacher.

She snorted slightly at his name. But she couldn't quite talk. Her parents had named her Feyre. She could feel a few pairs of eyes dart toward her at the noise that had escaped her lips. She didn't know if Rhysand was one of them because she had already glanced down at her notebooks, scratching a picture in the corner of the page. Her hand reached down, brushing some crumbs off her black shirt. She had decided to wear her faded skinny jeans and some converse adorned her feet.

The teacher, Ophelia Abernathy was her name, had fallen for his charm. Everyone did. And he had no qualms about using his gods-given gift of charisma to charm the pants off of anyone and everyone. He just stood there and smiled as Ophelia turned to the class and introduced Rhys to the class, stealing the occasional glance at him.  
  
Someone snorted somewhere in the class and Rhys' eyes snapped up, searching to see who it had been. It was made obvious for him as everyone else turned to look at a golden haired girl who wore glasses and a black t-shirt. Rhys smirked to himself. A challenge had been issued, the gauntlet thrown. Rhys looked forward to it.  
  
Once Ophelia was finished, and told him to take his seat and "No, it's no trouble at all. You didn't miss much, we were just getting started." There were very few empty seats in the class, and Rhys obviously, /obviously/, chose the one beside the golden-brown haired girl. "Hey." Rhys said, leaning towards her a bit from his seat with a grin on his face.

Feyre groaned inwardly. Of course he had heard her snort so of course he had decided to sit next to her. She crossed one leg over the other as he leaned toward her slightly. “Personal space buddy. Stay out of mine.” She pointed her pen at him in a threatening way. Or as threatening as she could with a writing utensil. She could practically feel the smug look on his face. “You were late. Don't expect any sympathy from me.” She murmured and shook her head, jotting down a few notes as their teacher clicked onto the next slide of the power point. Her pen wandered slightly across the page, drawing the night sky in the top corner of her page. She could still feel his eyes on her but she simply decided to ignore him. She also knew that strategy wouldn't last for too long. He would probably bother her even more if she ignored him. A small and soft sigh escaped her lips as she tilted her head slightly to look at him.

"Keep pointing that pen at me like that and I might just be tempted to take it. I think I forgot mine.." He said before rummaging around in his bag for emphasis. She  _really_ didn't like him. And he found that absolutely fascinating. Everyone liked him. But, here was this brunette anomaly, sitting there in her converse, avoiding his gaze as if he were the plague. Oooh, this was indeed going to be fun.

"Ophelia didn't seem to mind my tardiness." He said pointing up at the teacher as she droned on about the history one of Edgar Degas' less famous paintings. He glanced over at her paper, intrigued. "Why the night sky?" He asked, not bothering to whisper and pretending to be ignorant of the "shh"s and odd looks he got. But his grin was absolutely feline when she deigned to look up at him.

Feyre sighed quietly, reaching down into her messenger bag and pulling out an extra pen. She always kept extras. “Here. You can use this if you shut up.” She set the pen down in front of him, glancing up at him for a moment. He really was gorgeous. She had to admit that at least. “Professor Abernathy didn't seem to mind because you seemed so inclined to get into her pants after class.” She hissed softly, shooting him a quick glare. He was insufferable and she had just met him. She took a deep breath as she tried to focus and take notes but again he was talking to her. “Because. It's open and vast and complicated.” She replied shortly, looking at the front of the class. She could feel Professor Abernathy’s eyes flitting over to them every few seconds. She didn't seem to like the fact that Rhys was chatting with her. “Please just be quiet before I get in trouble. You may be willing to sleep with her but I most certainly will not.” She whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Is she that sexually depraved?" Rhys asked with a raised eyebrow as he graciously took the pen from her and tucked it behind his ear, setting his bag on the floor beside his chair. He hadn't bothered bringing a notebook, or a pen. He knew he wouldn't need notes, at least not for the first few weeks. He was already well versed in art theory and art history.

Edgar Degas, for instance, born with the name  born Hilaire-Germain-Edgar De Gas was a French artist known for more than just his paintings of pretty dancers. He was also famous for his sculptures and drawings. He was credited for being one of the founders of Impressionism, although he'd rejected the term; he'd preferred to be called a realist. His paintings were, and are, Rhys supposed, notable for their psychological complexity and for their portrayal of human isolation. And that was a general overview of Degas that anyone who looked him up would know.

Rhys cocked his head to the side slightly, considering her description of the night sky. "So you like complicated things, then." A question and an answer to that question. He followed her gaze up to the unhappy expression staring at them from the front of the room. He almost laughed. Ophelia almost looked like an irritable bird, he thought. "Is your unwillingness to bed her due to your sexuality, or is there some rule you have that makes sleeping with teachers taboo?"

Feyre let a deep sigh escape her parted lips. This guy just wasn't one to give up was he? She turned to look at him once more. She was only half paying attention to their teacher anyways. She had already read ahead in their textbook so she didn't really need to listen. “Maybe she is.” She shrugged slightly, looking at their teacher. “I'm sure she would have jumped you if you came early instead of late.” She smirked a bit when she looked up at him. She reached up to brush back some of her hair that had fallen into her face. “And if you're not going to use that. Why did you need it?” She pointed at her pen that currently resided behind his ear. She knew that he had probably done it simply to annoy her. He seemed the type.

“Something I'm sure you're not.” She teased him, humming slightly as she turned from him once more. She could feel their professors eyes on them as she continued jotting down a few notes, though most of them were just scribbles or drawings. She blanched slightly at his words, the fingers of her free hand clenching a bit as she had them in her lap. “I don't understand how that would be any of your concern. Prick.” She snapped a bit, shooting him a glare that had made other guys leave her alone in an instant. But he seemed completely unfazed. He was even smirking. He probably loved how easily he could push her buttons, so she moved away from him and focused on the board in front of her.

"That would explain why she would be desperate enough to jump the new kid." He said, suppressing a chuckle as he glanced up at the professor. If she was, indeed, a professor. She didn't seem the type, Rhys thought to himself as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his broad chest. His gaze returning to the girl beside him. "Hm?" Rhys said, seemingly bemused until she pointed to the pen resting behind his ear. "Oh, that? Aesthetic, my dear Watson." He said, beaming at her.  
  
"Care to find out?" He inquired with a suggestive tone and a raised brow. She fell silent few moments, taking down a few notes, and then his words took effect. Her irritation was a palpable, tangible thing as her fingers clenched and unclenched. A sense of accomplishment and pride washed over Rhys and he couldn't help but grin like the Cheshire cat. "Prick? Oh, how original, love. Very witty." He said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Feyre let out a deep sigh through her nose, shaking her head for a moment. She kept her gaze on her notebook, deciding she wasn't quite in the mood anymore. She could still feel his gaze on her but kept her eyes on her writing, scribbling down notes and drawing between them. “Drawing is more my strong suit than words.” She replied simply to him, shaking her head once more in slight annoyance. He knew he was bothering her and he took pleasure in it. “Would narcissistic asshole work better for you?” She tilted her head to the side, looking into those unnerving eyes of his. She noticed the grin on his lips as he looked back at her, her pen still tucked behind her ear. She let out a small puff of air, glancing up around the classroom instead. A few pairs of eyes continued to flit toward them every once in awhile and people seemed to be leaning together and whispering. She rolled her eyes slightly before ducking her head once more. She hated attention. That's why she sat in the back of the class.

The fact that she ignored him did not deter him, nor did it bore him. She was in silence just as infinitely fascinating as she was when she was mocking him or being overly annoyed with him. "Clearly." He said, eyeing the little pictures she'd doodled all over her notebook. They were quite good, he could see why she'd taken up art courses, if only to hone that natural talent into a skill she could use for anything. He had the feeling she'd end up being this generation's Michelangelo, her work was too finely detailed to be a Matisse or a Pollock.. He looked up at her once again, his brows raising toward his hairline. "As an occupation or a title?" Narcissistic asshole, indeed. He laughed at that mentally. He'd been called worse by people more intimidating than her. "But if you're looking for something to call me, Rhysand will do just fine."

Feyre looked back up at him, closing her notebook with a snap as she noticed his gaze on it. “Don't look at that.” She mumbled slightly, cheeks flushing a bit as she glanced down at her notebook. “I know your name.” She shook her head a little, rolling her eyes. “Abernathy announced it to the whole class when she was fawning over you.” She let her eyes find his once more, watching him slowly for a moment as she bit down on her bottom lip. “Clare.” She replied quietly, brushing back a strand of her hair as she glanced back up at the front of the room. She knew that she probably wouldn't get away with lying to him about her name for very long but why would it matter? She wouldn't see him outside of this classroom. She tapped her fingers gently against the table, slightly bored as she leaned back in her chair. She slowly flipped her notebook back open, turning it to a blank page and starting to draw a pair of eyes.

"And why ever not?" Rhys said, a touch of unintended defensiveness creeping into his tone. "They're beautiful.." He said, a genuine frown contorting his features. He looked away from her for a moment, schooling his features once more. He looked back at her with a quirked brow. "Is that why you snorted? Because Ophelia up there," he said, jerking his chin toward the professor at the front of the classroom, "was fawning over me? Or because my name is as pretentious as you find me?" He asked with a cock of his head. And her eyes found his, and she told him her name. He was about ninety percent sure she gave him a fake name just to shut him up. He'd ask Abernathy after class. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Clare." He said her name as though he knew it was a fake, extending his hand toward her. Handshakes are how normal people introduced themselves.

Feyre smiled softly at him. She had seen the slight frown on his lips as she had tried to cover her drawings before his face quickly contorted to its usual smug look. ‘I wouldn't mind knowing the guy under this facade.’ She thought to herself as she quirked one eyebrow. He truly was annoying and pretentious but she was sure it was just a front for those he wasn't close to. “A little of both.” She hummed in reply, setting her pen down as she stretched and glanced at her watch. Class would be over soon. She could tell that he already knew her name was fake but she didn't care. She reached for his hand. Her fingers wrapped around his gently. His hands were warm around hers and they were much bigger than her own. She felt tiny compared to him as she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Rhys.” She murmured and blinked up at him. She slowly pulled her hand away as Abernathy told them that class was dismissed. She took her notebook, pushing it back into her messenger bag and glancing up at him for a moment. “It's Feyre actually.” She looked into his eyes, watching his reaction as she stood from her chair.

"Oh, so we're resorting to nicknames now, are we? Or is my name just too long for you to remember?" He teased, as he shook her hand, a genuine smile playing at his lips. He did notice the petiteness of her hand, the frail composition of it as she shook his hand. He had half expected her to just ignore his outstretched hand completely, or batted it away with a mumbled insult. She seemed the type. "Pleasure's all mine, madame." He said with unfeigned gallantry. He wasn't as horrible as he pretended to be most of the time, that was true. But he had become so good at being awful, had built such a wall around his heart, that for years now, he'd found it difficult to be sincere with anyone. Especially someone he knew so little about.  
  
As Abernathy dismissed them, and _Feyre_ divulged her real name to him, a knowing smile curled his lips as he looked back into her eyes. "I knew it couldn't have been Clare. Too mundane a name for such a wild thing." He half teased as she stood. He stood himself, a moment later. And with a bow of the head and a salute, he bid Feyre a due.

“Rhys seems completely less pretentious than Rhysand.” She mused softly and picked up her bag, setting it over her shoulder as she glanced up at him. She couldn't help but laugh as he joked with her and called her madame. A small smile lit up her face. She definitely knew that he wasn't as much of an asshole as she thought he was. She pulled her hand back from his as she shook her head slightly. “See you.” She flushed a bit at his words, shooting him a pointed glare once more. “Wild?” She raised one eyebrow as she watched him, crossing her arms for a moment as she left the room. “I'll show you wild.” She mumbled to herself as she walked, brushing her fingers through her hair. She had creative writing in about an hour so she decided she would need some sort of caffeine before then.

Rhys laughed from the doorway as he heard her muttered 'I'll show you wild'. He was sure she would follow through wholeheartedly. He shook his head, a smile on his lips as he strode down the hall. Goddammit. He thought a minute later. He grudgingly headed back for the classroom. Of course he'd forgotten his coffee. And there it was, sitting on the desk he'd inhabited a few minutes before. He made his way through the throng of students exiting the classroom. It was like trying to swim against the riptide. If he was any smaller a person, he might have been trampled. But thanks to his height and bulk, he made it to his desk and out again without so much as someone stepping on his foot. He might need something slightly stronger than coffee if he was going to be attending this school on a regular basis.    
  
Just as he was exiting the building, he recalled he had one more class to attend. He groaned, hitting his head against the side of the building before trudging back into the building, ignoring absolutely everyone he passed. Even those who waved or smiled. He didn't spare anyone a second glance. Mor was home sick today, and neither Cassian nor Azriel had any interest in writing, or reading much for that matter. So Rhys would be attending his creative writing class on his own, it would seem.

Feyre brushed her fingers through her hair, biting her bottom lip gently as she walked out of the building. She definitely needed a soda or something. She walked to the next building, into the little cafeteria that they had on campus. She plucked a large cup from one of the stacks, filling it only halfway with ice before following the ice with the Diet Sunkist from the nozzle. She hummed softly, placing the lid over her soda and grabbing a straw. She pulled out her wallet, standing in line as she waited to pay. Right before she was going to pay, a tan hand reached out, placing the money on the counter for her. She frowned slightly, glancing up into the bright green eyes of her ex. She clenched her jaw slightly, pushing the money away from the cashier. “He’s not paying.” She said in a low voice, turning away from Tamilin as he grabbed her arm.

“C’mon Feyre.” Tamlin sighed deeply, sliding the money toward the cashier once more. The woman eyed them slightly before taking the money and giving him back his change. “Just talk to me.” He turned her around slightly but Feyre shot him a glare, yanking her arm back from his touch.

“No thank you. Thanks for the drink. I have to go to class.” She snapped slightly, picking up her drink and stalking away from him. His longer legs made it easier for him to follow her and he soon caught up with her. “Stop following me.” She frowned and spun to face him. Her blue-grey eyes flashing angrily as she glared up at him. They were outside of the building where her next class was and she was hoping that nobody would see them as she stood there with him.


End file.
